Responsibilty
by Revhead
Summary: SG1 are captured, and Jack's sense of responsibility for his team leads him to shoulder all the pain inflicted on them, invoking memories of his time in Iraq... rated to be safe, but I don't know the rating system that well...


**Authors Note: This is one of my first fanfictions, so I hope it's okay... I found out later that there is more than one type of Arabic, and I accidentally used the Egyptian version rather than Iraqi, so apologies for that... I also claim no real knowledge of the conditions Jack woulda been subjected to during his Iraqi imprisonment, it's just my interpretation... But yeah, reviews are always welcome... Enjoy! **

**Responsibilty**

"Strong energy readings in that direction, sir," reported Captain Samantha Carter, glancing up from the device in her hands and indicating west of their position.

Colonel Jack O'Neill squinted against the light of P7C-384's setting sun, then, as an afterthought, slid on his sunglasses. A line of trees seemed to lead up to a low building which could be seen in the distance, centred within large fields of various descriptions.

"Okay, then," Jack said, briefly glancing back at the Stargate as if to assure himself that it wasn't going anywhere, before stepping forward. "Let's move out."

A sneeze behind him caused Jack to turn, a smile twitching at his lips. "Forget your Kleenex, Daniel?"

Doctor Daniel Jackson glared at him, pulling a tissue out of his pocket. "Thanks for your concern," he muttered in a sarcastic tone meant to carry.

"Just looking out for you, Danny-boy," Jack replied with a grin. The young archeologist's allergies gave Jack numerous opportunities to tease him, and the banter between them had become an accepted constant. It was one of the things that made a team, Jack thought.

His gaze flicked to the fourth member of SG-1. Teal'c watched their surroundings in silence, keeping only a cursory eye on Daniel. It still amazed Jack sometimes, how quiet the Jaffa could be. It was easy to forget he was there, but of course that made sense; when he was First Prime of Apophis, Teal'c would have had to fade into the background when his intimidating presence was not required. He never considered himself off duty, though.

Turning back in the direction of the apparent farm, Jack absently decided that one of these days he needed to convince Teal'c to loosen up a bit, get him talking. Presently, however, there were other matters at hand.

"Time to get moving, kids."

His team fell in beside him and together they headed toward the apparent farm dwelling.

All of a sudden Jack felt a tingling in the vulnerable spot on the back of his neck, as if they were being watched by unfriendly eyes. He glanced over at Teal'c and saw that he, too, sensed something. Jack's grip on his MP5 tightened. On a mental count of three Jack whirled, Teal'c matching the movement.

There was no one in the immediate vicinity, but Jack's sharp eyes picked out an armoured figure retreating into the trees. For a moment Jack was puzzled, but a low warning from Teal'c drew his gaze to a sphere-shaped object that had rolled to a stop at their feet. Seconds before it started to emit a high-pitched whine, he recognized what it was and had a brief moment to think, _Dammit_, before a blinding light engulfed his mind and those of his team, rendering them unconscious.

* * *

"Damn."

At the exhaled word, Captain Carter slowly opened her eyes to a black world. Confused, she blinked a couple of times to no avail. She couldn't see a thing.

The memories filtered back, and Sam found herself agreeing with the Colonel's comment._Damn._ A Goa'uld shock grenade. She had to admit, she hated those things.

Sam sat up, resting her back against what felt like metal bars. She sighed at the realization; captured by yet another Goa'uld. It was beginning to seem like SG-1's trademark.

"Carter?"

Sam allowed herself a small smile. The Colonel would be hesitant this time around when it came to feeling out his surroundings, for fear of being bitten on the hand by his 2IC. "Yes, sir."

"Weell…" Colonel O'Neill drawled, "good morning, campers."

By that statement Samantha assumed Daniel and Teal'c had already been accounted for.

"I do not believe it is yet morning, O'Neill," remarked Teal'c. Sam smiled, thinking it odd that the Jaffa could have forgotten the effects of a Goa'uld stun grenade. Although, somehow she figured that Teal'c probably did know what he was talking about.

"We're blind, Teal'c," Daniel commented matter-of-factly, and the Colonel snorted in amusement at the pointing out of the obvious.

"On the contrary, Daniel Jackson. By now our sight should have returned."

Teal'c was right, of course. Sam frowned down at her fingers, straining to catch even the faintest outline. Slowly her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and the dark blur that was her hand became visible.

A low wheeze startled her, and she lost her concentration, gaze jerking up and around. They weren't alone, it seemed.

"Be quiet…" a male voice moaned. "Some people are trying to sleep."

"Sir?" Sam whispered, slightly panicked. If there was someone else in their cell…

"Carter," the Colonel said firmly, reminding her that she was a trained US Air Force officer.

Sam swallowed, forcing herself to calm down. When she thought about it, the voice had echoed and been somewhat distorted, indicating its source was in a different cell a short distance away. It also implied that they were not the only prisoners.

Not knowing what to do with that information, Sam filed it away for future reference and tipped her head back against the bars. In the military you learned to snatch rest where you could get it, so she closed her eyes with a gentle sigh, letting sleep creep over her.

It was short-lived. Sam was woken abruptly when lights flooded their cell. Her eyes snapped open, immediately assessing the situation.

"Hey, folks," the Colonel said, flicking two fingers in greeting. Sam glanced at him, and realized he was talking to the Jaffa who had appeared. Not surprisingly, they remained silent.

Sam's gaze slipped past the Jaffa and followed the corridor outside SG-1's cell, noting with some surprise the numerous cells that lined it. At first guess, this was some kind of Goa'uld mining operation. Of what, though?

Sam looked back to the Jaffa, eyes tracing the symbol branded on their foreheads. It appeared to be of… grain. She glanced over to Teal'c with a semi-raised eyebrow, questioning.

"A minor Goa'uld," Teal'c provided. "Neper."

Daniel was quick to pick up on the name, and his face brightened. "Neper was the Egyptian god of the grain. He wasn't very well known until he became associated with Osiris, and was considered subordinate to the Nile god because he was dependant on the silt the Nile provided." Daniel paused to take a breath, racking up more information from the depths of his Ancient Egyptian knowledge.

Taking the opportunity for what it was, Jack lifted a hand to cut off any further explanation from the young archeologist. "So we're dealing with a farmer," Jack said conclusively.

Sam had to hide a smile as Daniel frowned, but said nothing more.

A Jaffa stepped forward and waved a hand over a pad on their cell door, swinging it open with a loud creak of rusted metal. The sound was accompanied by similar noises from the other cells, and Sam turned, wondering what was going on.

The Jaffa ignored her as he entered the cell, instead grabbing Daniel roughly and pulling him to his feet. "You first," he growled, pushing Daniel face first to the wall. He drew a whip.

The Colonel scrambled to his feet to intervene, locking an arm around the Jaffa's neck and pulling him away from Daniel. The element of surprise was momentarily effective, but strong as he was, Colonel O'Neill was no match for the brute strength of the Jaffa and was swiftly thrown to the ground.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" the Colonel demanded, standing again but wisely deciding against another wrestling match. To make up for this, he stood with his arms crossed and an expression on his face that would have sent most marine recruits running for cover.

"Five lashings each," the Jaffa informed him grudgingly, "every morning. Then you will work on the surface until you fulfill your mandate for the day." He smiled, a cruel parting of lips over stained teeth. "If you do not, you will be made an example for the other prisoners."

Sam's eyes widened in involuntary panic. There was no way she would even be able to move after such a lashing, let alone work, and Daniel was the same.

The Colonel's calculating gaze met her eyes, and she realized he had reached the same understanding. With a sinking feeling in her gut, Sam knew what he would do, and arguing would be futile.

"I'll take them for my team." Colonel O'Neill had a determined set to his jaw, and Sam knew he meant it.

"Jack!" Daniel blurted, horrified.

"Daniel," Jack replied calmly, somehow ignoring the screams of agony echoing from the other cells. His gaze locked with the Jaffa. "I'll do it."

For a moment it looked as if the Jaffa would refuse. Mixed feelings of dread and relief squirmed in Sam's gut, until a metallic voice she knew to be Goa'uld said,

"Why not?"

The Jaffa turned and quickly dropped to one knee in respect. "My lord Neper."

The Goa'uld, as per usual, was ridiculously overdressed, as the Colonel would call it. Sam was inclined to agree. The mountains of jewelry and robes were seriously over-the-top. It seemed that after so long of pretending to be gods, they were beginning to believe their own advertising.

"He shall receive all twenty," Neper said, a twisted grin on his face. Sam winced at hearing the number said aloud.

Teal'c stood to his feet. "I, too, will share this burden."

The Goa'uld lost his smile for a moment, taking in the golden brand of Apophis on Teal'c's forehead. But he quickly regained it. "No. This one-" He flicked a casual hand in the Colonel's direction. "-amuses me greatly. He shall take them all, and will work twice as hard as the others."

"No!" The word was said simultaneously by the three other members of SG-1. The Colonel met their dismayed looks steadily, silently assuring them that it was all right.

He was turned against the wall, and his black t-shirt was torn away. Sam gasped when she saw thin white scars criss-crossing over the Colonel's back. Question's immediately popped into her mind, and she stood there gaping until the first stroke fell. Then she had to look away, swallowing convulsively in an attempt to quell the nausea.

_Oh, God…_ Her mind was counting the cracks of the whip, causing Samantha to flinch with each one. The Colonel didn't make a sound until the seventh, when he hissed with pain. Guilt churned in Sam's gut. By fifteen she knew the Colonel was biting back screams, and she felt sick._Nineteen…_ It was almost over. The last stroke fell, and Colonel O'Neill did scream, but he cut it off abruptly. Even so, it echoed in Sam's mind over and over again, and she scrunched into a ball, trying to block it out. If he screamed it had to have been agonizing. He would never have screamed otherwise. _Oh, God…_

"Get to work," the Jaffa ordered with a sneer.

Daniel gently pulled Sam to her feet. She tried not to look, but her gaze was drawn to the bloodied whip that the Jaffa was hooking back to his side, and then to the Colonel.

Colonel O'Neill had sagged against the wall, his breathing shallow. His back was a mass of red welts that were bleeding dreadfully, and the sight forced Sam to blink back tears. The Colonel pushed himself upright and staggered toward the cell door.

A sick grin spread over the Jaffa's face as he planted dirty hands firmly on the Colonel's back and shoved him violently forward. This sent him wildly off course; Samantha flinched as his body impacted against the metal bars and his knees buckled.

Glancing over to Teal'c, Sam noticed the slight tightening of his jaw, and knew he was contemplating whether or not he should assist the Colonel. The fact that he was hesitating at all surprised Sam, until it occurred to her that Colonel O'Neill might consider it a question of his strength.

She watched, nervously chewing on her bottom lip, as the Colonel heaved himself up the bars and sucked in a deep breath. Moments later he stepped out of the cell, shoulders straight and movements confident. The rest of SG-1 followed, Samantha barely containing the urge to once again gape at the Colonel. How anyone could gather that much strength was beyond her.

Sam's thoughts were interrupted when the Jaffa behind her impatiently prodded her forward with the butt of his staff weapon. All of a sudden she felt the overwhelming urge to spin around and beat the man to a pulp, but she knew that such action would be foolhardy on more than one front. To compensate, she threw a scowl in the Jaffa's direction and continued on.

It wasn't long before SG-1 was roughly ushered onto a flat, circular stone rimmed by a now familiar circlet of Goa'uld symbols. Seconds later a set of transport rings whipped up around them.

* * *

Daniel surveyed the extensive field before him with something akin to mild interest. Personally, the young archeologist would have preferred the ruins of an ancient city, but he had to admit that these crops were not your average plant.

He walked forward a few paces and then bent to examine one of the plants. It was about a foot high with silver-green leaves spaced along its length. The stalk itself was fairly thin, and somehow appeared to be black, deep green, and silver all at the same time. Daniel tugged at it, expecting it to come loose in his hand, but the plant was outstandingly sturdy.

"You'll be needing this."

Daniel turned at the mocking tone and caught sight of a scimitar skidding toward him just in time to twist out of the way of its blade. A sort of smirk crossed the lips of the Jaffa who had thrown it – what passed for laughter in Jaffa ranks, Daniel supposed. It wasn't funny in his opinion, but he wasn't exactly in a position to complain.

"Six bundles each to fulfill your daily mandate," the Jaffa informed them, thrusting scimitars at the others. He shoved Jack's at his chest with particular emphasis, and the Colonel staggered before regaining his balance. "Twelve for you," the Jaffa added, his glee apparent.

Daniel's eyebrows knitted into a frown, and he made to say something. Jack met his eyes, and shook his head. But Daniel couldn't just let this injustice happen.

"Jack-"

"Daniel," Jack interrupted firmly, silencing further objections.

Daniel closed his mouth, but his thoughts rumbled on angrily. There was no way that Jack's body could handle that much physical strain after the beating it had received, Special Ops training or not. Blood was beginning to pool on the ground where Jack stood, for heavens sake!

"Get to work," the Jaffa ordered.

Daniel grasped the handle of his scimitar, dark ideas running through his mind about what exactly he would like to do with the blade. Logic, however, simply informed Daniel that assisting Jack in completing the work set to him was the best course of action at present, and the passionate hatred making his blood boil slowly reduced to a simmer.

"And don't even think about doing anything stupid. I will be watching to ensure that you all complete your _own_ mandate." The Jaffa guard fingered the whip at his side briefly, and then waved a hand toward the field.

Daniel got the message, and reluctantly began the harvesting work. It didn't take very long for him to realize that the blade was blunt, which was going to make for a long, exhausting day. And the sun hadn't even cleared the horizon yet.

* * *

Daniel swept a grimy hand across his brow, attempting to wipe away the sweat, but likely leaving streaks of dirt in its place. He was definitely tired, and it had taken him longer than Sam and Teal'c to collect the six bundles. His fatigue had to pale in comparison to Jack's, though.

Silhouetted against the last rays of sunlight, Jack staggered through the field to where the rest of his team stood. He dropped his bundle amongst the others, and then turned to the enemy Jaffa, straightening as he did, a grim smile settling over his features.

"You know, you'd think a bunch of you Jaffa could do this a whole heap faster, but hey, I understand if sitting on your asses all day tires you out." Jack's tone oozed sarcasm.

Daniel wanted to shake his head. Jack was certainly an expert at getting their captors all riled up and furious. It was his way of coping, the younger man guessed. He just hoped that Jack's antics wouldn't get them all killed.

"Get moving," the Jaffa growled.

For a moment, Jack didn't move, and Daniel was convinced that there was no limit to the man's stubbornness… or stupidity.

The Jaffa was incredibly putout, to say the least. In an instant his staff weapon had snapped up and around, slamming into Jack's gut and without giving him to slightest moment to recover, cracking over his back. The force of the blow sent the Colonel to his knees, but the guard didn't stop there. He brought the weapon down again and again, until Jack lay practically unconscious on the ground, blood pouring from reopened wounds and bruises already appearing all over his body.

Daniel swallowed, feeling sick to his stomach. As the Jaffa raised his staff weapon again, something in the archeologist snapped abruptly. All thoughts of caution were lost in the torrent of fury that swept over him, and Daniel lunged forward. He gripped the weapon and wrenched it sideways, refusing to let the Jaffa beat Jack to death.

The victory was small and short-lived. Seconds later the butt of the weapon struck Daniel hard in the jaw, sending him reeling backwards. Daniel then realized that all he had done was draw the Jaffa guard's anger to himself._Better than Jack,_ he thought, finding a little consolation in that. It didn't improve his current situation, however.

The Jaffa advanced on him, a sadistic gleam in his eyes. Daniel drew himself up to face the guard, knowing that he didn't really have a chance.

"Stop!" Samantha blurted. When the enemy Jaffa turned and looked at her, her voice hardened. "We're going. Cut it out." There was complete authority in her voice, and Daniel was reminded that she was a qualified Air Force officer.

The Jaffa frowned, but made no move to continue the beating, and Daniel breathed a sigh of relief.

After a wary glance at the guard, Sam slid an arm around the Colonel and started to heave him to his feet. Daniel moved forward to help, but Teal'c got there first, so he ducked out of the way, not wanting to make it harder for them.

Not long after, they were roughly ushered back into their cell and the door was locked behind them.

Sam looked over at Daniel with a look that asked, _Now what?_ Daniel could see her dilemma. Which ever way you looked at it, there wasn't any position that Jack could possibly find comfortable on the hard, cold ground.

"We should keep him off his back," Daniel finally suggested.

Sam nodded. "We don't want to risk infection on top of everything else."

She and Teal'c lowered Jack to the ground as carefully as they could, while Daniel retrieved on of the discarded jackets and folded it into a makeshift pillow. Once the Colonel had been laid flat on his stomach Daniel slipped the jacket under his head, and then sat back on his haunches. He hoped Jack would sleep peacefully.

He did, for a little while at least, but barely an hour had passed before Jack's eyes flickered open.

"Daniel?" he asked, trying to prop himself up on his elbows.

"You should sleep," Daniel said by way of answer, pushing the older man back down again.

"Yes, sir," Sam affirmed. "You need to regain your strength."

Jack grunted. "No. What we need to do is find a way out of this -" Jack swung his legs around and maneuvered himself into a sitting position, spitting out the rest of his sentence through gritted teeth, "_damn _place."

"What do you propose, O'Neill?" inquired Teal'c with a slightly raised eyebrow.

"Ahh…"

"We could make a break for it," Daniel suggested mildly, removing his glasses automatically and cleaning them briefly before replacing them on the bridge of his nose.

"We'd be hard pressed to outrun the Jaffa," Samantha pointed out. "And the Colonel's in no shape to-"

"It's a mute point in any case," Jack interrupted. "There's a force field surrounding the entire area."

Daniel stared at Jack open-mouthed. Sometimes, he had to admit, the man was incredible.

"You were able to pick up on that?" he said incredulously. Daniel had to hide a smile at the strange look on Jack's face, inwardly coming to the realization that the dumb-colonel attitude was just a façade. He had known it already, of course, but it was moments like this that made Daniel fully appreciate the training and expertise that it had taken to actually reach the rank of Colonel. The thought of a force field hadn't even occurred to Daniel, and Jack had possessed the presence of mind to check out his theory, even through the pain he had to have been feeling, and inconspicuously at that.

"So we need to figure out another way of escape," Sam summarized, bobbing her head in acknowledgement.

"To put it simply," Jack agreed. There was a few seconds of silence, and then Jack looked over at his 2IC. "How exactly do we do that?"

"Well, sir, based on the high concentration of Jaffa guarding the harvesting fields throughout the duration of the labourers' work hours, and the comparatively low-"

"Ah!" Jack's raised hand cut her off mid-sentence. He had an exasperated look on his face. "Carter?" he asked again, his tone of voice warning against another of Sam's tirades.

She flushed. "Sorry, sir. I guess I'm not really sure of a possible solution at the moment."

"Right." There was the slightest inflection of a sigh in his words, which only someone who knew him well could have picked up.

Sam winced, and Daniel knew what was on her mind. The impending lashings of the next morning were plaguing him too.

"Sleep on it," Jack said, oblivious to their concerns, or deliberately turning a blind eye.

"Yes, sir," Sam replied, trying to hide the tremor in her voice. Daniel doubted that she'd get much sleep.

Without further comment, Jack slumped sideways and fell asleep almost immediately.

For a while the other three members of SG-1 watched the Colonel, then Teal'c moved to the far corner and settled into a state of Kel'no'reem. Samantha drew her legs up to her chin and rested her head on her knees, but she didn't take her eyes off the still figure on the floor.

"Sam?" Daniel asked softly, moving to sit beside her and resting his back against the wall. "Are you okay?"

"Hm? Yeah, yeah I'm fine," she mumbled distractedly, and Daniel wasn't at all convinced.

"Jack will be all right," Daniel assured her quietly, guessing the train of her thoughts with little difficulty.

"Yeah," Sam muttered, but the word wasn't really said in agreement. She was silent for a few moments, and then said, "Did you see the scars on his back before-" Her voice broke, and she shuddered.

"I saw them," Daniel said darkly. They had been disturbing, but not altogether unexpected, considering the Colonel's past. "Jack's been through a lot."

Sam nodded jerkily. "He doesn't deserve this."

"No," Daniel agreed, his eyes drawn back to the slumbering figure before them. "No, he doesn't. But Sam-" He looked back at her, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder and forcing her blue eyes to focus on him. "We _are_ going to get through this. We're going to find a way out of here, and Jack is going to be okay. But right now you have to get some rest."

Sam dropped her gaze to the floor. "I don't think I can," she whispered.

"Would you like me to make it an order?" Daniel said, a smile twitching at his lips. It was said in humour, but he did mean it.

"Yes, sir," she mumbled, stretching out into a more comfortable position.

"'Night," Daniel said softly.

* * *

Jack turned over in his sleep and was jerked back into consciousness by a wave of agony. He bit back a curse, recognizing the sounds of deep breathing as a sign that his team was still sleeping. They would need the energy for the coming day.

Jack winced at the thought, and then silently berated himself for being weak. It was his responsibility to make sure that the other members of SG-1 made it out of this situation okay. If that meant enduring 20 lashes each morning than so be it. It wasn't like he'd never experienced it before. Hell, he'd even had much worse.

Jack pressed a palm against his forehead, trying to block out the memories that threatened to flood back. Those had been locked away in the darkest corner of his mind for a good reason. Remembering would only make the morning to come all the more difficult, and he couldn't afford to hand the enemy that kind of weapon.

Almost automatically his mind turned to Charlie and Sara – the distraction he'd always escaped to in the past when living with the memories had become too much. But even those thoughts were now tainted, and were more nightmarish than the safe place they had once been.

Jack sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face, resigned to the torment that was his life. Knowing that he wasn't going to go back to sleep any time soon, he slowly eased himself into a sitting position, doing his best not to make a sound. The pain rippling over his back made that hard, though.

"Sir?" came Carter's soft inquiry.

Crap. "Go back to sleep, Captain."

"Colonel, are you okay?" she asked, completely ignoring the implied order and from the sounds of it, sitting up also.

Jack rolled his eyes skyward. How was it that the most brilliant officer in Stargate Command could ask such a stupid question? "Peachy, Carter," he replied, the faintest trace of sarcasm in his voice.

There was silence for a beat, before she responded automatically, "Yes, sir."

"Jack?"

"O'Neill?"

"Oh, for cryin' out loud," Jack muttered. "Not quite morning, campers," he said in a slightly louder voice. "Go back to sleep."

"I'm not tired," Daniel said immediately.

"I too, have had sufficient rest," added Teal'c, his low voice rumbling in the comparative silence.

Jack sighed. Sometimes his team could be as stubborn as he was.

"How are you feeling?" Daniel asked after a moment, and sincere as he was, Jack was becoming irked by the question.

"I'm just peachy, Daniel. Can we talk about something else, please?"

"Jack-" Daniel began.

"Daniel," Jack interrupted, loading all his frustration into the single word. The archaeologist fell silent without finishing the sentence.

Just then, light flooded the cells, accompanied by the heavy footfalls of Jaffa. Jack resisted the urge to swear, conscious of the sudden increase of tension within his teammates and unwilling to make them feel worse about his decision.

Carter jumped to her feet, skittish as a cat. "Sir, you can't."

"Stand down, Captain," he said firmly, also rising to his feet. "This is my call."

"Jack-"

"Dammit, Daniel!" Jack snapped, his patience gone as he whirled on his friend. "We have been through this already. It can't go down any other way, and I _will not_ hear any other objections. Is that clear?"

Mortified, Daniel dropped his gaze. Jack extended the glare to his 2IC, but she had already looked away, unwilling to face him. Well, that was fine; as long as she got the message. Teal'c, on the other hand, met Jack's eyes steadily, and after a moment Jack felt ashamed at his loss of control. They were only trying to look out for him, and here he was, biting their heads off for showing that they cared. But right now, compassion was unacceptable, because it created cracks in the solid armour that Jack had formed around his mind and heart. And that would only make what Jack had to do harder.

A loud creak of rusted metal announced the agony to come. Jack concentrated hard on suppressing the shudder that threatened to transverse his frame, and was successful. He experienced a brief moment of satisfaction, before a large hand gripped his shoulder, causing him to jerk violently. Seconds later, he was shoved towards the wall.

Without any warning the first stroke fell, and Jack was unable to hold in a sharp cry of pain as the whip tore open the welts of the previous day. Behind him he heard Carter's horrified gasp, and that somehow hardened his resolve. He braced himself, clamping down hard on his lower lip.

He tried to focus his mind on something – anything – else, but was consistently brought back to reality as the flesh on his back was ripped wide by the seemingly endless lashings. Each one felt like an eternity, but the part of his mind that was counting recognized that only eight had passed when the pain became too much, and a scream fought its way passed his throat.

_No!_ he berated himself, instantly angered by his weakness. _I will _not_ give in. I'm stronger than this!_

He pressed his forehead against the rough wall, biting his lip through until it bled. He fought back every exclamation of pain, pushing the agony as far into the deep recesses of his mind as he could. It wasn't long until the world began to grey around the edges, and he was clinging to consciousness by fingernails.

"Argh!" he roared as yet another stroke fell – this time with even more force behind it than those prior to it– before his eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed.

* * *

"Sir!" "Jack!" "O'Neill!"

Sam sprinted forward, aghast, as soon as she realized that the Colonel had fallen unconscious. The Jaffa was killing him!

She had eyes for no one but Jack, and so was caught off guard by the muscular arm that slammed her backwards. In turn, Daniel threw out a hand to prevent her from falling.

"Leave him alone!" she implored, tears springing unbidden to her eyes.

"It is the will of Lord Neper that this man receives all twenty," replied the Jaffa, a sadistic grin spreading over his face, "and I live to serve." He yanked the Colonel to a standing position, and then sent a stinging slap across his face.

Sam heard a yell of outrage from Daniel, and knew exactly how he felt. It had served its purpose, however; the Colonel's eyes flashed open and he lurched backwards, away from the enemy.

Sam watched surprise flash across Colonel O'Neill's face as his back struck the wall with a sickening crunch, swiftly followed by an expression of pain that she hoped never to see again. He didn't cry out, though, and managed to heft a look of indifference onto his face after sucking in a deep breath.

"Two to go," the Jaffa leered, wrenching the Colonel around so he once more faced the cold stone.

Colonel O'Neill's shoulders sagged in resignation, and Sam had to look away from the bloodied mass that his back had become. She couldn't bear to watch the final two blows – what little food that remained in her stomach was threatening to make a resounding reappearance as it was.

The whip cracked once, twice, accompanied by a deep groan of anguish from the Colonel.

Sam squeezed her eyelids tightly shut, failing to prevent a tear from slipping down her cheek. Why did her commanding officer have to be so noble? Why did he have to be so stupidly brave? She knew that it was his duty to ensure SG-1's safe return; she only wished that it didn't require him to sacrifice himself in the process.

"Get to work," the Jaffa ordered.

Sam turned reluctantly, brushing away the trace of moisture on her face and trying to appear calm. Automatically her gaze fell on the Colonel, and her composure shattered as her heart leapt into her throat.

He lay crumpled on the ground, unmoving, in a puddle of his own blood that was growing bigger even as she watched.

"If you do not work, than you shall be killed." Viciously, the Jaffa slammed a booted foot into the Colonel's back, eliciting a grunt of pain. It was a small relief, at least, that Jack wasn't already dead. "Get up!"

Daniel flinched as he witnessed the Jaffa's brutal treatment of his friend. He couldn't believe that he was just standing there and letting it happen. It went against everything he stood for, and yet Daniel was afraid to interfere. How sick was that?

Jack's body shifted slightly, as he tried to push himself off the ground. Unable to stand it any longer, his conscience overruling his fear at last, Daniel ran forward to help. Ignoring the Jaffa, he knelt down beside his friend's bloodied and battered form. As carefully as he could, he slid an arm around his waist and gently pulled Jack into a sitting position.

"Jack?"

His eyes looked a little unfocused, and he was mumbling something under his breath. Daniel leaned closer, trying to hear what he was saying.

"I will not… give in. I… I am… stronger… than this."

Daniel frowned. "Come on, Jack. You have to get up."

Jack blinked, his gaze focusing momentarily on Daniel's face. Daniel felt Jack tremble beneath his touch, but he didn't stand.

"Colonel!" Sam said loudly, her voice breaking slightly. "Get up. That's an order."

Finally Jack responded, struggling to get to his feet. With Daniel's assistance he managed it, although he didn't look very steady.

"Get to work," the Jaffa said again, indicating the open cell door with a flick of the whip.

Daniel glanced at Sam, who nodded and left the cell first. Daniel nudged Jack softly. "Come on."

"I will not… give in." With each whispered word Jack stepped forward, repeating it as a mantra that somehow kept him going. "I am… stronger… than this."

Silently, Teal'c took up his position at the rear. It was a small gesture, but Daniel figured that Jack would feel more secure with a familiar pattern that placed him within the center of his team. Besides, if Jack fell, Teal'c would be able to step in and help support the Colonel.

Daniel had no idea how he was able to do it, but even before they reached the ring transporter Jack had pulled away from him and was stubbornly walking on his own. Although it was obvious that Jack didn't want his help, Daniel remained close at his side, his brow furrowed anxiously.

"Jack, I think you need to take it easy…" he ventured, knowing that his suggestion wouldn't be well received. Daniel assumed that it had something to do with Jack's service in the Special Ops, but Jack's determined self-reliance had become even more evident over the past few days.

Jack ignored him, except to pick up his pace and flinch away from Daniel's offered hand.

"Jack-" Daniel started, his anger building at his friend's pigheadedness.

"Just… don't," Jack rasped, staggering onward. "I have to do this."

"Why?" Daniel asked, throwing up his hands in frustration. "You don't have to prove anything to us."

"My… respons… ibility," Jack replied, his words becoming more laboured. "And… anyway… I'm supposed… to… be… _stronger_-" His words cut off abruptly as an impatient, sharp prod from the butt of a staff weapon struck him in the back and sent him reeling.

Daniel lunged forward, mentally kicking himself. He wasn't fast enough, however, and Jack landed hard on his knees. Jack let loose a string of curses in a multitude of languages, his fluency somewhat surprising to the young linguist.

Brushing away that distraction, Daniel made to kneel beside Jack.

"Daniel Jackson."

He turned to look at Teal'c, a question on his lips. But when he met the Jaffa's eyes, he found he didn't need to ask. And he knew Teal'c was right, however much Daniel may not like it. This was something that Jack needed to do on his own.

His lips compressed into a thin line, Daniel watched as Jack slowly got back on his feet. He couldn't help but notice that Jack was avoiding putting weight on his leg, and that was giving Daniel a very bad feeling.

"Keep moving," growled one of Neper's Jaffa, the malice evident in his tone. Daniel felt like imitating Jack's language for a moment; he knew a few more that the Jaffa would actually understand.

With a sigh, Daniel noticed that Jack was now limping. Everything seemed to be going from bad to worse. Nonetheless, dawdling would not improve matters. More likely the opposite, in actual fact.

"Why, Jack?" he whispered to himself as he moved towards the circular stone slab where Sam already waited. Unfortunately, he already knew the answer, and Daniel hated the fact that much of the blame lay in his own weakness.

* * *

"_Answer me!"_

_Jack's body lurched forward as the Iraqi jailer sent yet another line of excruciating fire across his back._

"_Captain – Jack – O'Neill-" he gasped between __laboured__ breaths, struggling to recall even that small fragment of his identity that had otherwise been washed away by months of endless agony and torture. "Serial number – 7, 9 – 9, 3-"_

"– 6 – 4 – 1, 2," Jack choked out, before yet another stroke fell.

Sam stood with a hand pressed over her mouth, forcing back the nausea. After more than two weeks of the same routine, she somehow thought that she would have become more desensitized to the whole situation, but with each day it only got harder. She couldn't believe that the Colonel had hung in there for as long as he had. Even now he continued to fulfill the required mandate – but it was different. _He_ was different.

He no longer seemed aware of the presence of his team, or indeed, any of his surroundings. His last coherent words had been a few days ago – _Get us out of here, Captain_ – and since then he had said nothing aloud except to repeat his name and serial number. Sometimes she thought she heard him muttering something in another language, but if Daniel understood any of it he wasn't saying.

Sam flinched as the whipping continued, and adverted her eyes from the horrific sight. Her gaze found Daniel, whose face was set in a resigned expression, bereft of hope. A grim mood had settled over SG-1, reflected Sam. They had been caught in rough circumstances in the past but, without the jokes that usually came hard and fast from the Colonel, the situation seemed… well, hopeless.

"Get go-" started the Jaffa, but the Colonel had already lurched toward the cell door, leading the way. Sam scanned his back, having realized that she needed to keep an eye out for signs of internal damage as well as external, in lieu of a better doctor. She tried to stay professional about it, but it was difficult when she recognized the flash of white to be a bone. Much more of this and the Colonel would be suffering from broken ribs on top of everything else. God, how had she let things get this bad?

She stepped toward the door, almost slipping in the slick puddle of blood on the ground. She caught herself, and forced her eyes back to the Colonel, his words repeating themselves in her mind. _Get us out of here, Captain._ A grim smile settled over her features. Whatever it took, she would find a way out. _Yes, sir_.

* * *

_Jack heard them coming. He always heard them coming, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do to stop them. It didn't matter how much he protested, how much he struggled and resisted, they always came for him. There was no escape, and no hope of a rescue._

_So he just lay there limply as the Iraqis entered the dank, dirty cell. He didn't utter a single sarcastic remark as they attached the chain around his wrists to the pulley in the ceiling. He didn't even bother opening his eyes to watch them draw today's choice method of torture._

"_Esmac eh?" sneered one of them in a thick accent. Jack's mind automatically translated: 'What is your name?' He had learned the basics of their language early on – the beatings a fairly good incentive, really._

"_Jack O'Neill," he answered quickly, longing to forestall the pain as long as possible._

"_Enta hena leigh, Jack O'Neill?" another asked mockingly, trailing a finger down a bloodied scar on his back. Jack winced and peeled open his eyelids to stare at his jailers. 'Why are you here?'_

"_I was – left behind," he spat out. Seconds later the tail of a steel-tipped whip snapped across his back; his body swung forward and slammed against the wall. Jack cursed himself silently, dredging up the same words in Arabic. "Ana kont –"_

"– Matroock…"

Daniel looked up when he heard the mumble of Arabic from Jack, noting with some trepidation that Jack had staggered into the wall, grazing his hands badly. Daniel sighed when he realized what Jack had said. No one had mentioned it outright, but the truth was that SG-1 _had_ been left behind by Stargate Command. Daniel couldn't blame them – after all, any MALP they sent through would have picked up on the fact that this was a Goa'uld occupied world… and as such General Hammond couldn't condone a rescue mission. Once again, it was up to them to find their own way out.

However, Daniel suspected that Jack wasn't thinking about their current state of affairs. The snatches of Arabic he had heard over the past few days seemed to indicate that Jack was somehow lost in memories of his detainment – a word that severely downplayed what had actually been done to him – in Iraq. Daniel hadn't told Sam or Teal'c this theory, but it had him worried. Jack was going through enough without revisiting the atrocities he had suffered in the past, and unfortunately Daniel didn't know how to snap him out of it.

"Hurry up," suggested a Jaffa from behind him, jabbing him hard with a staff weapon.

"_Perhaps I did not make myself clear," said the jailer darkly, slipping into English temporarily. "What – is – your – purpose – here?" He punctuated each word with a blow._

"_Maintain life," Jack grunted through the pain, the mantra a basic set of guidelines in case of capture that the USAF had instilled in all its recruits. "Maintain __honour__. Return."_

"_What?__" snapped the Iraqi._

_Jack gritted his teeth, well aware that it was not the wanted answer but endeavoring to translate it anyway. "Haafez alah hai-eah. Haafez alah karamtac. Ta-ahla irga."_

_The jailer slammed a heavy fist into the side of Jack's head, and he repeated louder: "Haafez-"_

"– alah hai-eah. Haafez alah karamtac. Ta-ahla irga."

Sam glanced up from the plant she was examining and looked over to where the Colonel lay sleeping in the corner. He shifted as if in distress, and said again, "Haafez alah hai-eah. Haafez alah karamtac. Ta-ahla irga."

Sam finally decided that she'd had enough. "Daniel, what is he saying?"

Daniel's blue eyes flickered over to the Colonel, and then reluctantly met her gaze. "It's in Arabic," he told her quietly.

Sam almost rolled her eyes in frustration. "And…?"

"Roughly translated it means 'Maintain life. Maintain honour. Return.'"

"Oh…" Sam exhaled, recognizing the saying immediately. She paused for a moment, her brow wrinkling in puzzlement. "But why is he saying it in Arabic?" she asked.

Daniel looked at her sadly, and gradually realization dawned. "Oh." She had known about the Colonel's stint in Iraq, of course, but she'd never really thought about it – mostly because his service in the Special Ops was confidential and therefore not often mentioned. From what little that had been revealed, though, it had also been obvious that it was a painful subject. Until then, she hadn't wanted to think about the full implications of that.

"We have got to get him out of here," Daniel said, his voice loaded with conviction.

Sam nodded, fingering the plant in her lap. "I think I have a plan."

Daniel stared at her, his mouth parted slightly in surprise, and even Teal'c leaned forward with an eyebrow raised.

"Daniel, you said that the force fields are not operational at night…?"

"Ah, yeah, I talked to one of the other prisoners – Jeord – and among other things he told me that having them up all the time would consume too much energy, so the Jaffa rely on the cells for the containment of the slaves… It's also one of the reasons for the daily lashings –"

"Right," Sam interrupted, painfully aware that the Colonel would have halted Daniel's tirade before he'd gotten more than a few words out. "So all we need to do is break out of this cell."

"Captain Carter, I have been in many Goa'uld facilities," said Teal'c. "Enough to know that much explosive power would be required to achieve-"

"That's where this comes in." Sam waved the plant in the air triumphantly. At her teammates' skeptical looks she quickly explained. "I was thinking about the possible reasons for having a slave network simply for the harvesting of these plants, and it occurred to me. The Goa'uld are always searching for new sources of Naquadah, so it only makes sense that these plants must have at least traces of it. This Neper is one of the minor Goa'ulds, right?" Daniel nodded slowly, and Sam continued, "So he probably doesn't have enough power to contest with the System Lords for the planets with more significant levels of Naquadah. But it's in their nature to try and gain more power, so Neper would have made the most of whatever he could obtain."

Daniel blinked, and Sam could almost hear the Colonel saying, 'And this helps us how?' She grinned.

"Naquadah is explosive, so if I can rig it right, I could create a similar affect to C4 and-"

"Break us out of here," Daniel finished, a trace of excitement creeping into his voice. "That still leaves the problem of the Jaffa…"

Sam frowned. "I thought of that. I think with enough man power and the element of surprise we could do it. We'd only need to overpower a few to get our hands on some weapons, and after that I think we would probably have the advantage."

"So we're planning a mass break out? With all the prisoners?" Daniel asked.

Sam blushed ever so slightly, realizing that she hadn't actually mentioned that aspect of her plan. "Yes… I was hoping that the explosion will create a chain reaction, but if it doesn't, the cells can be unlocked from the outside anyway."

"Sounds like a plan," Daniel said. "When?"

Sam swallowed uncomfortably. "I hate to say this, but I think our best bet is tomorrow night. It will be morning soon, and we should probably find a way to alert the other prisoners of our intention. I need a bit longer to work out exactly how to make the Naquadah explode…"

Daniel gently placed a hand on her shoulder, the gesture a wordless assurance.

"O'Neill will endure," Teal'c added in a low rumble.

Sam nodded tiredly. "Hang in there, sir," she whispered. "We're going to get you home."

* * *

Sam could almost taste the expectancy in the air as she ever so carefully slid her make-shift explosive into place. Daniel had managed to spread the word without arousing suspicion, and now all the prisoners waited in the darkness for the freedom that was only minutes away.

"Sam, I think he's waking up," Daniel whispered, and sure enough she could hear the Colonel's quiet groan as he drifted back into consciousness.

"Thank God." She scuttled over to them, eyes straining against the blackness to ensure that she didn't hurt the Colonel in any way. The day's hard labour in addition to the broken ribs he had acquired that morning had been enough to leave him out cold earlier, and she didn't want to cause him any more pain.

"Sir?" she asked softly, but received no reply. Sam bit back a sigh. She knew it was going to be hard to get through to him, even when he was awake, because from what Daniel had told her the Colonel clearly thought he was still in Iraq. But she had to try; truth be told, she wasn't all that confident to make the decision to break out of there without his consent.

"Colonel," she said louder, a commanding edge to her tone. When that still had no effect, she slid an arm around his waist and gently pulled him into a sitting position. It was disturbing how light he had become. "Colonel," she repeated. "Sir, look at me." She placed a hand on his cheek and tilted his face in her direction. It was hard to tell without much light, but she thought his eyes looked unfocused and he wasn't responding. "Sir, you're not alone."

Finally he mumbled something, and she leaned closer to hear. "Left… behind."

"No, sir. We're here. Daniel, Teal'c… we haven't left you."

"Ana… kont–"

"Dammit, Colonel!" Sam snapped loudly, and then quickly lowered her voice. "You're not there any more. You made it out of Iraq, and we're going to make it out of here, but I need you to listen!" He was silent for a long moment, and without thinking about it, Sam shook his shoulders in an attempt to get his attention.

"No!" Jack blurted abruptly, wrenching himself out of her grasp. "Won't submit – to any more… won't…" He began to topple sideways, hands flailing uselessly in protest.

Sam's hands shot out automatically and grabbed him before he could hit the ground. Unfortunately, that seemed to send the Colonel into overdrive and he lashed out at her, struggling violently – his strength was surprising for someone in such bad shape – and Sam was thrown backwards against the wall.

_I'm going to have bruises,_ Sam reflected, the thought flashing briefly through her mind before Daniel's desperate cry brought her sharply back to the present. Common sense warned against touching him again, but seeing Jack jerking and writhing on the floor was making her panic.

"What do we do?" asked Daniel, his voice sounding close to hysteria.

"I don't know!"

Jack's chest heaved, and then his breath hitched. His body went limp.

"We have to get out of here, now!" Sam yelled, darting back to the cell door and setting off the explosive. Sparks flew in every direction, and all the prison cells burst open in quick succession.

Sam stepped out into the hallway as a war cry issued forth, glancing back momentarily to see Teal'c lift the Colonel onto his shoulders, before she was swept away by the crowd of slaves baying for blood.

* * *

Daniel punched in the last few numbers on the recovered GDO, sending a fleeting look over his shoulder at the ongoing battle between the Jaffa and their captives, and then called out, "Teal'c, go!"

Without any hesitation Teal'c ran for the shimmering event horizon of the Stargate, with Sam and Daniel offering cover fire to ensure he and Jack got through safely.

Daniel rattled off a few more rounds of the MP-5, taking down a few of their pursuers. He saw Sam beckon for him to retreat first and he did so, trusting that Sam would watch his back.

Daniel broke into a run as the sudden desire to be by Jack's side overwhelmed him. He needed to make sure he was okay, or be there if —

Abruptly, Daniel found himself skidding to a halt on the SGC's ramp in order to avoid smashing into Teal'c. He immediately scanned the embarkation room for Jack and caught a glimpse of a gurney being whisked out of sight.

"Doctor Jackson-" began the General, but Daniel had already skirted the Jaffa, throwing a quick apology over his shoulder as he dashed after Jack.

He was dimly aware of the wormhole disengaging and Sam's strained voice wearily explaining the events of the past few weeks, but those sounds soon faded. They were replaced by the all-too-familiar clamor of the infirmary; Janet's voice calling out instructions over the bleeping machinery, the affirmations which followed, nurses weaving a delicate pattern around each other as they swiftly followed orders...

Out of breath, Daniel reached the open doorway and paused to watch the desperate proceedings with a deeply furrowed brow. Jack wasn't breathing on his own, and the machines indicated that his heartbeat was wildly erratic. Blood seeped into the blankets he lay on at a terrifying rate, the crimson a sharp contrast to the grayish pallor of Jack's face. Worst of all was the tight, worried expression on Janet's face as she struggled to keep Jack alive.

"Daniel," a nurse said gently, touching him on the elbow and making him jump slightly.

"I'm not leaving," he said instantly, folding his arms across his chest.

Janet glanced up for a second, a knowing expression and minute smile on her face, before returning her attention to her patient.

"You're trembling," the nurse pointed out. "Your body is exhausted... At least sit down." Her voice was firm, and she guided him forcibly to a nearby chair.

_She's spent too much time working under Janet_, Daniel thought absently, his gaze still focused on Jack. "How is he?" The nurse didn't reply at first, and Daniel glared at her. He could be stubborn sometimes, too.

"He's gone into hypovolemic shock," she said reluctantly, "due to severe loss of blood."

"Is he going to be okay?" Daniel demanded, the inquiry echoed by Sam, who had just entered the room.

"I can't-"

"He's stabilizing!" Janet announced to the room at large, the relief evident in her voice.

"Thank God," Daniel whispered.

"Okay, we need to get bandages on those wounds before he looses any more blood," instructed Janet. "Turn him on his side in three. One, two, three!"

Daniel swayed queasily at the condition of the Colonel's back. He had watched each of those wounds being inflicted, but back in the safety of Stargate Command it seemed so much more jarringly wrong.

Sam moved to stand beside him, one hand on his shoulder to steady him, the other covering her mouth in an attempt to stifle her sobs.

It seemed to take an eternity, but eventually the white, sterilized bandages were in place, hiding the atrocities that had been done to the most courageous man Daniel had ever had the privilege of knowing.

The nurses gently moved Jack into his initial position, and Daniel flinched as a wince of pain flashed across his friend's face. Hadn't he been through enough without the torture being carried through into the infirmary as well?

Janet must have noticed his unease, because she explained quickly, "We need to keep pressure on those wounds to stop the bleeding completely." She glanced down at Jack who was no longer struggling for breath but breathing deeply. "He's asleep," she said in a quieter tone, moving over to them.

"He's okay?" Sam asked, slumping into the chair beside Daniel.

"He will be," Janet responded with a sigh. She looked at them, an apology in her eyes as she said, "I need to know what happened... And what to expect when he wakes up."

"We were captured and enslaved by a minor Goa'uld-" Sam began, looking to Daniel.

"Neper, Egyptian god of the grain," he supplied.

Sam nodded. "We were forced into harvesting Naquadah plants of some sort, and each morning everyone was suppose to receive five...lashings-" she choked, tears welling up in her eyes.

Janet looked sober, probably having realised what had occurred. Daniel tried to articulate it nevertheless.

"If we didn't work we would have been killed, and Jack knew that Sam and I couldn't - not after -" Daniel swallowed, trying to calm himself. "So he took the lashings for all of us, and then he was told he had to work twice as hard..."

Janet's face darkened, anger boiling beneath the surface. "How many?"

"340," a deep voice provided, and Daniel turned to see that Teal'c stood in the doorway, his expression even more grim than usual.

Nausea rushed up Daniel's throat as the number of lashes Jack had received registered in his mind. _340..._

"How the hell did he survive that?" one of the nurses whispered, looks of horror reflected on every face present in the room.

Daniel would have said something, but he couldn't force words past the hard lump in his throat, and he didn't really understand it himself.

"Special Ops...?" Sam mumbled uncertainly.

"Even so!" someone exclaimed.

"O'Neill is a strong warrior," Teal'c said slowly. "But strength in body is not enough to endure such cruelty. Rather, it is his sense of duty to his friends and his strength of character which has allowed him to prevail."

The room was silent for a long moment as everyone digested this abnormally long speech of Teal'c's.

"However," Teal'c continued, "O'Neill has suffered much, and this experience has awoken memories of an unpleasant period of his life."

Janet frowned. "How so?"

"He seems trapped in thoughts of his Iraqi imprisonment," Sam said quietly.

Janet's eyebrows rose in mixed empathy and surprise. "That bad?"

"He was speaking in Arabic," Daniel said, shifting uncomfortably as he remembered what Jack had said. "And he panicked just before we escaped - he got pretty violent."

Janet acknowledged his words with a slight jerk of her head, concern creasing her features. "We may need to restrain him, then, for his safety as well as ours."

"No!" blurted Sam and Daniel simultaneously. Daniel fell silent and allowed Sam to explain. "If he thinks he's in prison, restraining him will only make it worse!"

Janet shrugged helplessly. "What else can I do? Injured or not, the Colonel can be very dangerous when he thinks he is in danger."

Daniel frowned unhappily. He knew that strapping Jack to the hospital bed would solidify his fear that he was still in Iraq, and they might never get his mind back from the nightmare into which he had fallen. But he also knew that Janet was right.

"I'll stay with him," Daniel ventured, not sure if he would be able to convince Janet. "I can at least try to get through to him... If need be I could talk to him in Arabic, try to explain that he's safe..."

"I, too, will stay," Teal'c added. "I will not allow him to harm anyone."

Sam smiled tiredly. "I think you know that we're all going to help him get through this."

Daniel nodded determinedly. _Especially since he did it for us,_ he thought.

"You need to rest," Janet protested half-heartedly. "Your bodies have been overexerted as well... You should recuperate."

The three of them looked over at their leader, lying still and silent on the hospital bed that seemed to swamp him. He appeared so alone and vulnerable as he slept...

"We'll take turns, but we are not going to leave him," Daniel asserted.

Janet looked as though she wanted to object, but she eventually nodded. "Okay, but he's going to be asleep for at least an hour, so I want all of you to eat something." Her tone left no room for protest, and SG-1 relented.

With a last, long look at Jack, Daniel followed Sam and Teal'c out of the room.

"I'll be right back," he whispered.

* * *

Jack drifted between red-tinged darkness and the even more agonizing reality of semi-consciousness. From what he could sense when the pain was almost tolerable, something was wrapped tightly around his chest and he was surrounded by soft cushioning.

_This can't be real_, he thought, exhaling resignedly and wincing as his ribs gave a painful twinge. Either that or the Iraqi's were preparing him for something – worse...

He shifted restlessly, trying to confirm his observations. A shaft of pain lanced up his back, which didn't tell him much besides that he hurt terribly. He couldn't bring himself to peel open his eyes only to prove that he was still in the dark, dank prison cell, lying in a puddle of his own sweat and blood...

He shuddered violently at the thought, his mind working frantically to find a topic other than the endless torment. _Baseball with Charlie_. He tried to hold onto that image, but it slipped from his grasp to be replaced by the echoing sound of a gun shot.

_"Charlie!!" Sara's stricken face, eyes filled with horror and heartbreak. A desperate sprint up the staircase, knowing with each step that it was too late. A smattering of blood on the open door. Charlie's limp body sprawled out into the hall way, blood seeping into the carpet. A weak, fluttering pulse. Scooping the dying body of his son into his arms. Tears flooding down his face..._

Jack gasped, jerking away from the memory. _Not a memory!_ he insisted to himself, choking up all the same. _Just a nightmare... Charlie's alive, he's okay. Turning five soon... He has to be okay_.

"Jack?" A distant voice, trying to pull him from the recesses of his mind, to bring him back to face the torture again and again and again. He couldn't do it. He knew he was supposed to be stronger, but he simply couldn't do it anymore. Surely even death would be preferable to this...

"Jack."

He didn't respond, going rigidly still and hoping against hope that the accursed Iraqi would think he was unconscious. Just being asleep wasn't enough for them - a sound lashing was apparently as good a wake up call as any, and they liked to catch him off guard because it almost always guaranteed a scream.

A hand landed on his own and he had to conceal a wince as he remembered how they had mutilated it, pulling each finger until it dislocated with a painful and audible _pop_, playing a lit match over the skin until it blistered and burned, sliding a thin knife under his nails...

"Jack, it's okay, you're safe."

_Bull_. The bastards had tried luring him into a false sense of security before. He'd truly thought that he had been rescued, that the months of torment had finally come to an end. But it had started all over again, as he had inwardly known it would. He was never going to get out of there, see the stars through his telescope and breathe in fresh air, or see Sara and Charlie again... Fate had sentenced him here to die, drawing out the process to prolong his agony.

Jack turned away, pulling his hand out of his jailers grasp and hugging it close to his body as he tried to choke back a sob. Despair washed over him, and he couldn't prevent a tear from slipping down his cheek.

"Jack..." The hand returned, this time on his shoulder. Pain flashed through him, and a sudden surge of anger propelled his body towards the source of his discomfort. His knee and back screeched in protest, but momentum ruled his movements and his leg connected solidly with human flesh. A startled gasp was heard, swiftly followed by the thump of someone hitting the floor.

Jack scrambled upright, unable to see through the haze of pain but all his other senses alert and functioning. _This won't change anything,_ a small voice of reason whispered in his ear. He refused to listen, longing for the chance to strike back, to inflict some of the pain he was feeling on someone else, and if death was his penalty – so much the better.

His feet connected with the prone figure on the floor and he dropped down beside it, fists flying wildly.

"O'Neill, do not!"

The voice sounded familiar, but Jack had gone beyond caring. He continued the pounding, bruising his knuckles in the process, until some pulled him forcibly away. He struggled violently, the pain almost winding him, but he couldn't pull free.

"O'Neill, desist. I do not wish to hurt you." The deep voice rumbled in his ear, lacking an Iraqi accent and somehow conveying absolute earnestness.

_Bull_, Jack tried to convince himself, attempting to erect barriers around his emotions. His body shuddered, expressing the sobs that he would not, could not allow past his throat.

"You are safe, O'Neill." Again, the same quiet sincerity. "Trust me in this, my brother."

Despite the arms still holding him firmly in place, Jack felt himself unwillingly sag in relief. He knew this man. Somehow… somewhere…

A low groan sounded from the other side of the room, and the pattering of feminine footsteps could be heard approaching.

"Daniel, Teal'c, what happened?"

Jack didn't hear the responses, the two names echoing strangely in his mind._Daniel…Teal'c…_ Part of a team. His team.

"Where am I?" he grated out through a parched throat.

"Colonel?"

The rank didn't fit… did it? And yet somehow it seemed as though it did. Colonel Jack O'Neill, Commanding Officer of –

"Sir, you're in the SGC's infirmary. What's the last thing you remember?"

Stupid question. He'd just hit someone. Someone trying to help him. A team member. "Daniel…" he exhaled weakly, his tone apologetic.

"I'm okay, Jack," came a breathless assurance, still sounding somewhat pained.

"Before that?" the woman pressed.

A series of images passed across his mind's eye, each worse than the last. "Hell," he whispered, aware that he was trembling but unable to quell the shakiness that was sending tingles of pain from his back.

The grip on him loosened slightly, but Teal'c was still supporting him, offering a wordless comfort that meant the world to one exhausted Jack O'Neill.

Someone else entered the room, and Jack finally cracked open an eye to study his surroundings.

"Colonel! You're awake." A blonde head swam into view, relief etched into her features.

"C-Carter?" he croaked.

A grin spread over her face. "Yes, sir. It's good to have you back."

"Good to be back," he whispered, slowly scanning the now-recognizable room and simply absorbing the presence of his friends. The memories slowly filtered back – his stint in Iraq had only been for four months. Charlie – he was gone now, and so was Sara. But he had his team. SG-1. And he was home. That was all that mattered.


End file.
